


i'm so fucking happy you're alive / swear to god i'm down if you're down

by heroic



Series: together? together. [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 17:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16877298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroic/pseuds/heroic
Summary: He wants to go back there, to press his hands against the bare skin of her back, to breathe her in.





	i'm so fucking happy you're alive / swear to god i'm down if you're down

**Author's Note:**

> always in sync, never aligned
> 
> title from "mine" by bazzi

“Bellamy,” Clarke says in this dream.

Her hair is longer than it was the last time he saw her, but still shorter than when they crash-landed onto the Earth with ninety-nine other kids. He still thinks about it— her blonde curls glistening in the sunlight for the first time, hair pinned back to look like a crown against her temples.  _Princess,_  he sneered back then.

“Clarke,” he heaves out now.

He knows it’s a dream because it’s just the two of them, together, like he’s dreamed of for so long. She’s not in chains, or spinning stories with a silver tongue, just staring at him like she can’t believe he’s there, like he’s her hero. He knows he isn’t, knows he never has been, but Clarke’s eyes are gleaming like they did when he offered up three hundred lives for her and said she was important.

He wants to go back there, to press his hands against the bare skin of her back, to breathe her in.  _And now you’re home_ , Clarke had quivered, happy and shocked, tears trailing down her cheeks. He wants to pull back and say:  _yes yes yes I will never leave you again, I promise._

He wants to keep that promise.

Instead the desperation of her clawing against chains when he told her he had to save his family at the expense of hers is sitting in between them, still a stifling wall Bellamy doesn’t know how to get through. He wonders if it’s even possible when he can’t go back and change anything, but Clarke is still looking at him like maybe it is. Even though she slapped him across the face and left him for dead, maybe it is.

There is so much hurt between them, and yet Bellamy still wants to cross the chasm, brush her longer-but-shorter hair back from her face again, have her sigh into his palm.

He doesn’t move, and neither does Clarke. She’s standing there, chest heaving, a small disbelieving smile playing on her lips.

Bellamy licks his lips. “Neither of us are going to apologize,” he says, just to try it out and see how it feels. It’s not as damning as he would’ve expected; it’s just honest. He knows she won’t. He knows he won’t, not in any way that actually matters.

Clarke looks down, shaking her head, still biting at the smile at the corner of her lips. “No,” she agrees, “we’re not.” When she looks back up, she nods at him like she’s done so many times before, but this time it doesn’t feel final. It doesn’t feel like a goodbye. “Wait for it?”

He knows what she's asking for. _Wait for the hurt to pass? Wait for me to lick my wounds, wait for you to lick yours? Wait for us to come back together again?_

_Wait for me?_

Bellamy can’t help the laugh that spills out of him. He kicks at the dirt underneath his feet, the lush green underbrush that surrounds them, and grins at her. His heart is a live, beating thing in his throat. “I thought you were dead for six years, Clarke. I can wait as long as it takes.”

Clarke brushes her own hair back, smoothing it behind her ear. “Every day,” she starts. “I radio-called you every day for those six years, hoping you’d pick up on the other line. Even with no answer, I’ll see you on the other side.”

And when she tilts her head, her hair glistens in the sunlight again, curling around her shoulders. There she is, Clarke, resilient and captivating and mean Clarke who he loves more than he should, more than he could ever possibly explain. He has never been thankful for anything more than her smiling in the breeze, in the sunlight.

_May we meet again._

When Bellamy opens his eyes, he’s awake from cryo-sleep, and Clarke is leaning above him, smiling softly. It’s so much better than his dreams.

He can wait.

“Hey,” she says, and he can’t resist the uplift of his lips.

“Hey,” he answers.


End file.
